


blood red

by IronSwordStarShield (SweetFanfics)



Series: 616 Stony Bingo 2019 [5]
Category: Marvel 616
Genre: Angst, M/M, Missing Scene, Post-Civil War (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:07:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22019854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetFanfics/pseuds/IronSwordStarShield
Summary: His head feels like it’s floating an inch over his neck as he stares at the dark spots marring the vibrant red of his gloves. How much had Tony bled out for his blood to soak into Steve’s gloves? How much of it was because he’d rammed his shield over and over again into Tony? Steve’s stomach turns as he remembers the viciousness with which he’d attacked Tony.--A quick look into Steve's head space shortly after he surrenders himself but before Tony talks to him in his cell.
Relationships: Steve Rogers & Tony Stark
Series: 616 Stony Bingo 2019 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1396459
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	blood red

**Author's Note:**

> I'd apologize for the angst and picking this particular idea for "Steve's Shield' on my bingo card but uhh.... sorry, not sorry? But I promise the last prompt will be smut?

As he sits in his cell, Steve wishes they hadn’t cuffed his hands in front of him. He really wishes they hadn’t done that. But because they’re power dampening cuffs, Steve imagines the SHIELD agents figured there wasn’t much Steve could do to break free. Or maybe they’d thought that he’d feel more comfortable this way.

Their reasons don’t matter. The fact is that Steve’s locked up in a cell deep in the bowels of SHIELD HQ with his hands tied up in front of him. With his blood-stained gloved-hands  _ right there _ for him to stare at. 

His head feels like it’s floating an inch over his neck as he stares at the dark spots marring the vibrant red of his gloves. How much had Tony bled out for his blood to soak into Steve’s gloves? How much of it was because he’d rammed his shield over and over again into Tony? Steve’s stomach turns as he remembers the viciousness with which he’d attacked Tony. 

Nausea rises like a tsunami as his mind flashes back to their fight. When he remembers the weary way in which Tony had told him to finish things, bile rises swiftly up his throat. Steve rushes to the toilet to throw up. Nothing but spit comes out. 

Panting, Steve stares sightless into the steel toilet bowl and wonders,  _ Where did I go so wrong?  _

How had he thought it was acceptable to go to the length he had gone to? Why had he thought it was a good idea to go after his (ex) best friend with such vicious ruthlessness? What had possessed him to beat Tony’s face in with his shield? 

Fuck. Remembering that brings back the sound of metal meeting metal. Steve can still feel the vibrations of the hits thrumming up his arms. A whimper digs its claws into his lungs. Steve swallows and is surprised he doesn’t taste blood.

_ I bet Tony tasted it though. I made a mess out of him. Beat him up good _ . 

Steve’s stomach roils at the thought, at how there’s a part of him that feels  _ immense  _ satisfaction at the notion. He swallows and pushes himself up to his feet. It’s two steps back to the ‘bed’ he’d been sitting on. Just two, measly steps. And Steve staggers on his way there because everything’s wrong. 

_ Everything is wrong.  _

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Ever. 

Everything that’s happened, everything they’ve been through. They’ve always come together, fought together. But now, their community has broken in a way that Steve’s not sure if things can ever go back to being right. And he’s played a monumental role in creating this divide. 

Don’t get him wrong. This doesn’t mean that he doesn’t believe he was right. But the way he’d gone about proving himself? Steve’s man enough to admit he’s fucked up. Because for all the times he’s fucked up, for all the people he’s hurt? He’s never been the one responsible for making his friends bleed. His shield has been bloodied many times before. But never with his team mates blood.

Steve buries his face in his hands, hating how he misses the familiar weight of his shield on his arm. It wouldn’t do anything to help the storm raging inside of him but it would have comforted him to just have the shield with him. 

He inhales deeply. He smells leather and blood. 

He immediately jerks his head back. 

He rips the gloves off and tosses them into a dark corner of his cell. 

He clenches his hands into fists but it doesn’t help. There’s a few drops of dried blood on the back of both his hands. There’s more droplets on his uniform. Steve swallows roughly and tells himself not to count the drops. He reminds himself that Tony’s got Extremis. He’ll be okay.

Probably more than okay he bets.

In fact, if he knows Tony? He’s probably smug as hell that he won. He’s probably going to walk in here eventually and rub Steve’s face in the fact that he ‘lost.’ Never mind the fact that Steve’s done what he’s been trying to do from the start: the right thing. Tony’s going to be an ass about this. 

Rage slowly begins to gather in the eye of the storm the more Steve thinks about it. Tony’s ego has always been one of his greatest flaws. And look at the mess it’s landed them all in now. Steve clenches his hands into fists. As much as he regrets his actions, he knows Tony probably doesn’t feel the same way. No. Tony’s probably laughing at how gullible Steve is. 

Steve’s fuming at the mental image when the door opens with a sharp beep. He looks up and sees Tony’s armored figure standing in the doorway.

_ See?  _ Steve’s anger whispers in his ear.  _ What’d I tell you. He’s going to be a smug bastard about what happened. He’s not going to listen. He’s not even going to do us the common courtesy of look isn the eye before he decides what’s going to happen. He’s let all that power go to his head and he doesn’t even know it. Just because he used his connections to get the job doesn’t mean he’s any good at it. It doesn’t give him the right to play judge, jury, and executioner.  _

_ Ever since he got Extremis, he’s lost his humanity. He’s let numbers dictate his actions more than his heart. He’s lost sight of what’s important. That’s become abundantly clear in the past few weeks. He thinks that just because he’s a genius and has enough computing power to beat the US army, that makes  _ his  _ choices right. _

He takes a deep breath as Tony steps into the room and firmly resolves that he is not going to apologize for what he’s done. The most he is willing to acquiesce is that perhaps he should have done more earlier to minimize the damage. But that’s not the real question he wants to ask Tony.

The thing that Steve wants to ask, above everything else, is something he yells at the man at the end of his angry rant.

“Was it  **worth it** ?  **Tell me!** ”

Tony’s tone is as expressionless as his armor face plate when he says, “Well...You’re a sore loser, Captain America.”

Disappointment crashes headfirst into rage inside of Steve. He doesn’t know what he expected from Tony. Steve clasps his hands between his knees and tell’s Tony’s back, “You bet.”


End file.
